Les Garcons Tristes
by Brian Conley
Summary: Marche has been home for four months now and Real Ivalice is taking it's toll. Odd dreams haunt him and feelings are stirred as Marche tries to understand what dream Ivalice really was. Completed and re-edited for 2012. New Author's Note included! Feedback and reviews welcome and encouraged!
1. Overture

Prologue:

**Overture**

From the tallest of Kudik Peaks, Marche could see all of Ivalice, spread like a patchwork quilt of farms, forests and cities. The winds picked up, carrying the land on it: fresh-baked Sprohm bread, the leafy smell of the Giza plains and even the cold of the Jagds. Marche closed his eyes and breathed it in, leaning into the gust. He felt the world embrace him with the comfort of faith and the warmth of a mother's touch.

When he again opened his eyes, the whole of it was burning. There was no noise to to the towering flames; only the wind whistled. Something wet his gloves. He looked to his hands and saw that they were dark with blood. His eyes went wide. A shadow fell across and he whirled. A Judge sat mounted before him. One hand held reigns, the other a sword. The two locked gaze. Marche could feel his heartbeat.

Moving with the wind, the Judge shifted and drove the length of steel through Marche's gut, bleeding out the plates of his armor. He staggered but didn't feel pain. He looked to the sword and spoke, but no words rang out. There was no noise as the Judge lifted him up off the ground. He slid the blade to the hilt. The Judge whipped the reigns and walked to the edge, casually flipping the blade to clear it. Marche kept his mouth open as he flew through the air, unable to scream or serve any verbal emotion. Blood trailed like escaping birds above him. His hands spread, arms limp.

He fell for hours, tumbling through the air, not moving, not breathing. He landed in the inferno. The flames started to eat at him. There was no pain as it scorched his flesh. As the fire took to his vision, he saw the top of the cliffs, now impossibly close, and the Judge sheathing its sword and taking grip its helmet. It lifted off easy. Marche's body went tight.

Ritz was in the judge's armor, contempt working her expression.

Marche reached to her a hand, burning at the fingers. He opened his mouth and two words rang like mourning bell.

"Ritz, why?"

She shook her head and answered. She stared hard. Marche tried to get up, to go after her, but his body was fixed to the ground, the flames starting to burn. He felt suddenly tired. He relaxed his muscles and took a breath. He fell into a sleep against his will, the flames taking him. He saw Ritz turn and leave just as the darkness came.

Her words followed it.

"You had no right to steal this from me."

Marche lost consciousness completely, drifting away from the burning world.


	2. Aria of Apology

One:

**Aria of Apology**

"I had a weird dream last night." Marche said, picking at his breakfast.

Doned looked up from his eggs, "Oh yeah?"

"I dreamt that Ritz…" Marche hesitated, swirling his oatmeal, "I dreamt that Ritz _killed_ me."

Doned tightened his expression, "That's not a very nice dream."

Marche shook his head, "Sure isn't. Been giving me chills all morning."

"Maybe it means something." Doned said.

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Marche looked to Doned from the tops of his eyes.

"I dunno…maybe that Ritz is mad at you?" Doned scowled, "Did you forget her birthday or something?"

Marche laughed and shook his head, "No…I don't think it's like that. It-"

"Did you say something that offended her? You do that a lot by accident."

"No, it-"

"Maybe…" Doned put his finger on his chin, "Maybe she's mad at you because you're oblivious to the fact that she likes you."

"Ok, stop." Marche slapped the table, "Now you're being silly. There's no chance of that."

"Really?"

"Really."

Doned thought for a beat, "Oh, then what about—"

"Doned!" Marche interrupted, again slapping the table, "My dream was in Ivalice!"

This quieted Doned and he lay his hands across his lap. He nursed the silence for a while.

"You mean…_our_ Ivalice?"

Marche made fists, "She was a judge and…she killed me..."

"Ritz? A _Judge_? That's…surreal."

Marche rolled his eyes, "Surreal is a understatement."

Both went quiet. Some snowbird song came from outside. A car passed, motor humming low.

Marche cleared his throat.

"Doned, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." Doned smiled.

Marche made his fists tighter. He licked his lips and bit his tongue at a few false starts. He swallowed.

"Do you…hate me? Do you hate me for bringing us back?"

Doned's response was immediate, like he had had practiced.

"I don't hate you, Marche. You're my brother. I can't hate you."

"But you could walk in our Ivalice…you had freedom! You-"

" It was a dream. A figment of our collective imaginations. Walking was nice, but what good is it if it's not real?"

"It felt real." Marche said.

"Most dreams do."

Marche took a deep breath and stood up. He took his leftover oatmeal to the fridge. As he walked by Doned, he playfully pat his head, mussing his hair.

"I'm going for a walk. Tell mom where I went."

"Okay." Doned twisted in his seat, watching as Marche pulled his jacket and scarf. He stopped at the front door.

"Doned?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." Marche said.

"Thanks for what?" Doned asked.

"Not hating me." Marche shot him a smile then left.

Doned turned back his breakfast. His appetite was gone. He chastised Marche, gritting his teeth. How stupid he was, thinking that way. After a life of sacrifice for his sake, how could Doned hate him in any capacity? The very idea nearly sickened Doned with anger.

It had been four months and three days since they awoke from their Ivalice. In that time Marche had changed. He was spending more time with his friends and family. Marche seemed to care more, if that was at all possible. But…Marche had always had a problem with keeping important things pent-up. Like this 'dream' he had…Doned was sure that if they weren't sibling, nobody would have ever know about it. Doned didn't get many details, either. Just a gloss of what it was, like Marche was just making conversation. Doned knew better: any dreams of Ivalice were rare and needed to be discussed. Him and Ritz had discussed many of their dreams. They built a friendship on it upon returning.

Doned took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He knew then who to call and after cleaning the table, rolled off to do so.


	3. Prince's Ballad

Two:

**The ****Prince's Ballad**

Marche walked a beeline from his house to Mewt's, cutting through alleys and yards that came out on the street he needed. He stood outside the house for a while before knocking. While he was waiting for answer he tucked his hands in his pockets and looked down at his feet. The doormat said 'welcome' on it.

Cid answered the door, dressed in a neat suit. Marche gave him a polite smile and took a half-step forward.

"Is Mewt home?"

Cid nodded, "Yeah, he's upstairs. Go on up."

Marche thanked Cid and entered. Mewt's houses smelled like candles and the floorboards creaked.

Upon waking from their Ivalice, him and Mewt had started spending more time together. They'd play, read and every day after school head off to Mewt's house to do their homework. Marche had spent so much time with Mewt that he even noticed his personality change. Before, Mewt was a quiet, introverted boy. Marche had watched him go from that to someone who often spoke his mind and was so good at it that the bullies didn't bother him anymore.

"Marche." Cid's said, "I have to get to work. Tell Mewt I said goodbye."

"Ok."

The door clicked shut. Marche couldn't help but think how much he liked Mewt's dad. He was just a good guy. He also had changed after they'd woken, be it from Mewt's influence or of his own. He was a business consultant, making coin enough to live comfortably. Marche was glad for the change, happy that his friend was that better off.

Marche went up the thin staircase, turning to look down the short hallway to Mewt's room. The door was open and Mewt was pulling on a white tee. He was a thin boy, so much that his shoulders bladed up like knifed under his skin. Marche had always known that he was scrawny but had never seen it so blatantly. He found no wonder as to why he had been royalty.

"Marche?"

Shaking from thought, Marche saw Mewt looking from his room, grinning.

"Hey, Mewt…uh, your dad let me in. He told me to tell you he went to work."

Mewt nodded and started through a drawer, "So, what's new?"

Marche walked to the door of Mewt's room and leaned against the frame. He looked around, at the off-white walls, the navy-blue carpet and the clean décor of dresser and unmade bed. There were no toys or games or any other hallmarks of childhood. Marche knew Mewt well enough now to know that he wasn't into stuff like that. Mewt was more into reading, fantasy and science, and the occasional philosophy. He had a plethora of books to prove it, but he said most were in the attic now.

"Mewt, I have a question to ask you."

Mewt looked up, "What?"

"It's a question I've had for a while now, but been too scared to ask."

Mewt fished his sweater of a drawer and closed it, "Ok, what is it?"

Marche took a deep breath.

"Do you hate me? Mewt, do you hate me for bringing us back?"

Mewt's cool blue eyes curved into concern, "No. You did what you had to."

"That's what my brother said." Marche sighed and went to sit on the bed.

"What brought this up?" Mewt asked.

"I had a dream last night." Marche's smoothed his hair, "It was about our Ivalice. So when I woke up, I thought of what we had there. I talked to Doned about it and he said basically what you're saying. But…"

"But what?"

"I just feel bad, that's all. You were a _prince_, Mewt. A Royal Family member who could have anything you wanted handed to you on a silver platter."

"Yeah, I guess…" Mewt shrugged.

"You even had a _mother!_ You had something usually irreplaceable given to you."

"Marche, stop it. None of what happened there was real. Haven't we talked about this? The land wasn't real, the people weren't real, _none of it_."

"But, if it looked real, sounded real and _felt_real…then what's to say it wasn't? Isn't reality simply a matter of perception?"

A look of anger came over Mewt's face, but washed into a smile.

"I suppose." He said, "Marche, why does it sound like you _want_ me to hate you?"

"I…" Marche slumped, drooping his head and putting his hands in his pockets, "I don't want you to. I just want to understand, that's all. The more I think of it, the more I realize that if I were you and you I, I don't think I'd be so ready to forgive."

Both boys were silent for a while. A wind picked up outside and rattled the windows.

Marche stood up after twenty minutes ticked by.

"Sorry for bothering you so early, Mewt." He said and started for the door, "I'll see you around."

"Marche, you know that you don't have to leave."

"I know." Marche pushed a smile and left.

Mewt furrowed he watched Marche leave. He thought of what he should do next. Should he go after him? Or stay here and let him confront him own demons? Mewt thought about it and quickly came to the conclusion that Marche wouldn't like him horning in too much about his thoughts and dreams. Still, Mewt wanted to help. He rooted around his room a bit, finding his coat and gloves. By the time he had dressed for the weather, he knew his course and left to set upon it.


	4. Symphony of Loneliness

Three:

**Symphony of Loneliness**

Marche left Mewt standing in his room, some sort of dumfounded look on his face. He didn't want to leave things on such a sour note, but he had another person to talk to and, sorry Mewt, wanted to get things done. His dream was still fresh, re-playing over and over; something Marche didn't want, but reluctantly had to let happen. He learned early on in life that his mind often wandered to things he didn't want to see.

When Doned was born, their mother had to undergo a serious operation after the birth. Marche's grandparents were out of town that week and it was raining so hard that night that no one could come and watch over him as he sat alone in the hospital, staring worried at the big glass doors that led to the Operating Room. Above the doors was a lit sign, signifying that someone was under the knife, and that this someone was Marche's mother. Every day he would see that sign, just as bright, even in memory. His dream efficiently suppressed those images, much to Marche's dismay. Seeing that hospital sign was much more comforting: at least it was a _real _memory, not something fabricated.

He puzzled over what it all meant. The cliffs, the fires and Ritz as a Judge. The lack of sound, his death. He creased his nose as he thought, trying to remember what she said. It was a real itch, as he remembered clearly what he had said to her. He had asked her why, a single noise in the vacuum. After that was a blank. He could see her lips moving, her green eyes dance in anger and her cherry hair blowing in the wind, but he couldn't remember her words. He could remember getting stabbed and falling, he could easily recall the smells on the air but he could not, for the life of him, remember _what Ritz said_.

Marche rubbed his chest with the heel of his palm, up and down where he'd be run through. Of course, there was no wound, but the replaying dream reminded him where it had been. As he rounded the next corner, he looked up from his thoughts. A few cars rolled down the road and the group of kids talked to each other as they walked the opposite sidewalk. St. Ivalice, _real _Ivalice, was such a nice place. It had great people, plenty of things to do and a good school. Sure, it snowed a lot, but the hospital was close and his Mother's job was closer still. The city itself emanated warmth, like a hearth on Christmas Eve.

He stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to turn. He watched the people around him. He saw a pair of teenage girls laughing and chatting as they sat on a bench outside a local coffeehouse, a elderly man walking and laughing with his grandson and a mother cooing playful at her baby in the carriage she was pushing. He saw some men in boiler suits unloading a food truck. Somebody somewhere had music playing.

Marche smiled, despite himself. He was happy to be in St. Ivalice. He loved this town. Compared to anywhere else he might live, it was a paradise, of sorts. He had friends close, family closer. He had a community alive and his needs met.

"_You had no right to steal this from me."_

Marche remembered suddenly, sending chills throughout and standing the hair on his arms. His eyes widened. He looked down at his feet as he thought. He started to cross the street, stepping off the curb. He was pulled back before his foot fell and the passing breeze of a speeding truck blew over him, carrying the deep bellows of its horn. He fell onto the sidewalk, catching himself on his hands. He leaned his head back, looking up at his savior.

"Marche, what are you doing? Are you ok?"

It was Ritz, standing with her arms out and her expression tight. Her hair was in a tail across her shoulders, white as the snow drifted onto it. A red ribbon hung at the base of her neck. Her eyes were a mix of aggravation and concern. She reached to offer a hand.

"Ritz." Marche said, voice shaky.

"You shouldn't be spacing out while crossing the street, Marche. You're lucky I was here to save you."

Marche pulled to his feet, grabbing her hands and pushing himself up with the other. Through his glove and through her mitten he felt her grip. Once he made eye contact. The frustration lingered, though her half-cocked grin gave way to friendliness.

"_Anyway_…" She continued, "I was just heading over to your house. Doned said he wanted to talk to me. What are you up to?"

For a blink, Ritz's hair turned to its former color. Marche swallowed and lifted a hand to her shoulder. She looked to it.

"Marche?" She said.

"Ritz, I'm sorry." Marche said, "I think I understand what I did to you and…I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Ritz shook her head.

A beat of silence, Marche moved his hand, "Tell Doned that I'll be home later."

He smiled broadly at Ritz and turned, looking up and down the street before running across. The answer was clear now and rattled around with the dream in his head. It wouldn't be easy and he was sure there would be sacrifice but as he ran, as the wind turned bitter against his skin, he realized more and more that that was okay. That he would accept whatever he had to give. It also occurred to him that Ritz had said she was going to his house. That was okay…her and Doned had gotten friendlier since coming back. He often saw them together, talking about this and that in his living room. He wondered if they ever talked about him. If they ever sat around and tried to analyze him. He hoped not, especially since he had just most likely spooked Ritz with his half-sentences and running off.

He would have to explain later, should he have the chance.


	5. Melody of Concern

Four:

**Melody of Concern**

Ritz stood at the corner until Marche was out of sight. She worried for him. She hadn't know Marche more than a day before their Ivalice, but the time spent with him inside was years of nothing but growth. Growth not only between her and Marche, but her, Mewt and Doned. Their time there, disputes and pleasantries, created bonds yet unbroken.

"I'm sorry." She mocked, turning on her heel and starting again down the way, "Yeah, and _I'm _sorry for not letting you get flattened, might've saved me some ti—"

She bit her tongue and shook her head. She knew that she shouldn't think such things of Marche. He was a genuinely nice person, and now one of her better friends, something she would've never predicted when their swords met in combat, with their differing ideals putting them to odds. She remembered clearly her anger there, in those woods. Her desire to keep the world they'd created. That anger seemed so silly now. She was in her town, with good friends, family. A place that she couldn't wake from and was happy in.

"Ritz."

Mewt had stepped outside just as Ritz passed. He smiled at her, turning away just quickly to lock the door.

"Hello, Mewt." Ritz greeted.

"What're you up to today?" Mewt asked, descending the stairs.

Ritz pointed to the yellow house at the end of the block, "Doned called and said he wanted to talk."

"Odd." Mewt said, "That's where I'm headed, but I called _him_."

"Oh?" Ritz frowned, "Is it about Marche?"

"Yeah. He just left a few minutes ago. He was acting…strange, so I gave Doned a call, hoping for a clue."

"Strange, how?" Ritz asked, narrowing her eyes.

"He asked me if I hated him and seemed to be in a hurry for an answer. The way he was acting, I would have thought he'd just gotten back from our Ivalice."

Ritz bit her lip. She remembered what it was like that morning, waking to St. Ivalice. Waking in a bed, in pajamas to a the normality of childhood after years of monsters, Judges, magicks and adventure. The loss of it was a hollow in her gut, the loss of world gone vanished, it hurt. She remembered the weight of her arms and the hole in her being. The first thing she did was cry. Hard, bitter tears. The kind of sobs that racked the body. She cried for an entire world and for that hole to somehow be filled.

"Hopefully, Doned can help." She said, "Walk with me?"

"Pleasure." Mewt said, smiling.

* * *

Doned sat at the living room window, looking out across the yards and houses, all in the whites of snow. His arms crossed over his lap and a red blanked over his legs. The weather outside had been progressively getting worse throughout the day. Doned had watched it go from gray skies to breezy rain to snow. The world amazed Doned, it was always changing, always _growing_. He sighed, disappointed. Looking out at the world was a double-edged sword. It brought ease, but also a kind of sadness—a sadness that constantly reminded him of his condition and the way he had to live. He slapped at his legs, reminding himself that he wasn't _paralyzed_, just _sick_. There was a chance that he'd get to walk someday and he held onto that hope, using it like an antidote to sadness. Besides, he had good friends and a good life anyway, the number of complaints paled to that of positives.

He smiled at the knocks at the front door.

"It's open!" He said, raising his voice so his friends could hear him. He heard the door open and close and rolled his way to the entry hall to see a snowy Mewt and Ritz both kicking off their shoes and removing coats and hats.

"Hi, Doned." Mewt said, rubbing his hair free of snow.

"Come in, come in." Doned said, waving a hand, "Let's sit in the living room. I got some snacks for us.."

"Oh, thank you." Mewt said. Him and Ritz found places on the sofa, Doned across the coffee table in his chair. On the table was a tin tray layered with cookies and slices of watermelon.

"So…" Mewt said, reaching to take one of the orange-frosted cookies, "Marche?"

"Acting strange." Ritz said, carefully taking a slice of melon.

"Did you both run into him?" Doned asked. Mewt and Ritz nodded.

"Asked me if I hated him." Mewt said.

"Me too." Ritz said.

"He told me he a dream last night." Mewt said, "Maybe that's the cause? Did he mention that to you?"

Ritz shook her head, "Nope." They both turned to Doned.

"Well, uh…" Doned hesitated, "He did but I don't want to say anything that he wouldn't want said. Besides, he didn't say much. He never does."

"Well, that's Marche for you." Ritz cut in, swallowing her melon before speaking, "I mean, I've known him only a few years, but I still know that his issues are his issues to him. Like a chest, locked with key."

"I think it's because he doesn't want anyone else burdened." Doned said. Mewt laughed softly.

"What?" Ritz asked.

Mewt shook his head, "_Realistically_, you've only known him for less a year."

"You know what I meant."

Doned smiled, "Yeah, Ritz and Marche saw a lot of each other in our Ivalice, or so I hear."

"We did." Ritz put her rind down on the tray, "We became good friends, despite it all."

"Despite what all?" Mewt asked.

"Our trains of thought. I wanted to stay and he wanted to go home. I guess I'll always find it strange that we're friends now."

"It is a odd kind of clash." Mewt said, "Me and Marche were so adamant against each other there, two swords always drawn. I can still remember the flight of power, you know, that rush of being royalty. All those things I always dreamt of, there. Then you wake up and it's gone an despite it, I still put stock into my friendship with Marche."

Doned spoke up, "I've thought about this for a long time and I've come to the conclusion that our Ivalice and St. Ivalice are two different places-"

"Well, yeah." Ritz said, rolling her eyes. Mewt laughed.

"No, I mean, different not only in appearance and location, but different in that _we're _different there. Like…like we're _us_…but…"

"Truer." Mewt's said flatly, "Kind of like I was just backseat to a different me." He laughed a little, "Of course, that's all retrospect, but I get what Doned is saying."

Doned looked at Ritz, "That feeling of knowing Marche for years, when you only knew him for a day or so in St. Ivalice, is your Ivalice self being with him."

"Wait." She said, "Let me try and clarify this psycho-blah-blah. What you two are saying is that in our Ivalice, I wasn't _me? _That I was a different _me_?"

"You were you." Mewt said, "Just with all of what you thought your flaws were _fixed_, at least, in your eyes. Your hair was red, you could fight and…"

"Shara was with me." Ritz's shut her eyes, "I get it. So all the time I was our Ivalice, me and Marche, all of us, were growing closer on a more…" She rolled her wrist, fishing for word, "_subliminal _level?"

Doned shrugged, "Something like that. "

"It was that book that started it all." Mewt said, leaning for a another cookie and watermelon slice.

Ritz smirked, "Yeah. I'm glad we got rid of that thing."

"I'll say." Mewt handed Ritz the watermelon, which she took with thanks, "I couldn't wait to hide it away. It was all I could think about during school."

Ritz choked in surprise. She pointed at Mewt.

"You went to _school_ that day?"

"Yeah. I mean, It wasn't easy, but I did."

"Better then me." Doned said, "It was all I could do to not cry myself to death. Pretty easy to trick my parents, too. They must have thought I had lost my mind. Marche, too."

"It was horrible, that feeling of such _loss_." Ritz said, "There was such a hole, you know? Terrible."

"I wonder if Marche felt the same way?" Mewt asked.

"He stayed home with me." Doned took a cookie, "He was pretty blue."

"I wonder how much _he_ really lost." Ritz said, "He _got _what he wanted."

It was quiet for a few minutes and her words hung still in the air.

"Ritz killed Marche." Doned said, "In his dream."

Ritz gasped, "What?"

"That's what he said. He said you were in Judge's armor and you killed him."

Ritz looked down, knocking her socked heels together. She wondered what the hell that could mean. She knew dreams of their Ivalice were important and she'd had her fair share, but…

"Have you ever dreamt of our Ivalice like that?" She asked the room. Both boys shook their heads. Ritz took in a long breath and held it. She thought about the implications, about Marche and her friends. She let it out in a huff and stood.

"Where are you going?" Mewt asked.

"I have to talk to Marche. I have to ask him if he was hurt, coming back."

"Of course he was."

Doned wheeled himself in front of Ritz.

"Take me with you." He said, " Take me with you to find him. I need to see him as well."

Ritz smiled, "Of course! I wasn't going to _leave _you." She looked to Mewt, "Coming?"

"What do you plan on asking, exactly?"

"Well…" She frowned, "I'm going to ask him what his deal is."

Mewt stood up, "You'd better let me ask him why he gave me the third degree on hating him, too."

Ritz nodded and without another word, the three started to get ready

* * * .

The woods that edged the town was nothing now but skeletons trees and the occasional pine. It was like a bed of tremendous spikes, all barbed and white with snow. The path through, usually clear and worn by decades of travel, was now vanished by the weather. Marche knew the way well enough regardless and trudged through, pushing aside barren thorn bushes and felled branches. The spot was deep into the wood, well out of sight of anything civilization. Past the tiny river, now frozen smooth, and the large oak trees with hollows around their roots.

It took him nearly an hour to where it was buried. There was no landmark or anything special about it. They had chosen such a place as to avoid either anybody finding it or to help dissuade temptation to retrieve it. Using his hands, Marche rooted through six different spots, each a dud, until coming across the sweetest one, right at the base of a tall birch. It was buried deep, two feet at least and his hands were bitter cold, even through gloves, as he pulled the book free. It's cover shook free of dirt, it's pages creaked with cold. He opened it to where the spine remembered. He stared for a while, rubbing his hands together.

"lta oron Sondus kameela." He said. He said it fast, like pulling a trigger. He focused on nothing but the book and the words. His eyes began to droop and he fell forward. He felt tears start to form and they were warm as he drifted to sleep.


	6. Requiem of Evanescence

Five:

**Requiem of Evanescence**

"Where are we starting?" Mewt asked. He was walking with his hands in his pockets next to Ritz who was pushing a layered Doned.

"I don't know." Doned said from underneath his scarf.

Ritz piped up, "Why don't we go ask around Main street, see if anyone saw him."

Both boys agreed.

* * *

"Marche. Marche, my son, awaken."

Marche opened his eyes to a painfully bright light.. He cringed under it, putting his hand over squinted eyes. They darted from left to right, searching franticly for the owner of the voice that woke him.

"Where are you?" He yelled, rising to his feet.

"You have returned to what you abandoned by choice. You have come to let Ivalice reflect you once more."

"What are you talking about?"

The voice was thin, airy. Like whispers carried through an empty house. Marche spun around, his feet clicking of off a floor that he couldn't see underneath him. He clenched a jaw and made a fist.

"Come _out_!" He yelled, "Let me _see _you!"

The light faded and Marche adjusted to see that he was surrounded by stone rubble, ruins of what looked like a castle. Vines and other vegetation took the debris like hands over the stone. He was standing in an open square of land, perhaps a courtyard. The air was heavy and humid, like it had been raining for years and just stopped in time for a heat wave. Marche felt his body heaver then usual and he looked to see that he in armor, _his _armor that he had worn for the majority of time in their Ivalice.

"Marche Radiuju. Tell me why you returned."

Marche tightened his fist and looked down at his feet, boots worn yet sturdy and his golden-hilted sword sheathed at his waist.

"I came back." Marche answered, "Because I want to fix my mistake."

"Mistake?"

"All of my friends had something precious here and I took it away. I…I love my home in real Ivalice. It's perfect for me, almost _paradise_. I think that's how it must have felt to my friends _here_, in _this_ Ivalice." He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"Your guilt emanates like smoke from fire."

"I'm going to fix it, though. Make it right."

"Oh? How so? And what if you've already done so? Perhaps those you've wronged have already forgave?"

"Maybe." Marche started walking, keeping his senses on edge, "But that doesn't change the fact that I hurt them."

"How will you fix it, then? What is here now that help them?"

"I don't know yet." Marche said, spotting a path out of the square. He looked round once more, to the sky now blue and bright. He started to walk.

* * *

"Yeah, I saw him. He was running that way."

"Thank you, Mr. Tobis." Doned said and waved at him as they walked off. He waved them goodbye from behind the counter of his fruit stand.

"What's down this way?" Doned asked, looking around.

Behind him, Ritz answered, "The train station, the long roads to the highway and the edge of town. This is really the last road of the city."

"Is that it?"

Mewt scowled, "What would Marche be doing down this way? There's nothing _down _here."

Ritz stopped abruptly, making Doned almost jerk from his seat.

"What happened?" He asked, annoyed.

"The woods." Ritz said, her voice flat, "It's down here."

"You don't think that Marche would…?" Mewt asked. He frowned.

"Let's go." Doned said, "Let's go and _fast_."

Both Mewt and Ritz nodded in agreement and they headed off.

* * *

"Where do you plan on going?"

"I don't know." Marche walked underneath an old stone archway, "I'm just looking for a way to fix things."

"You think that you'll find it _here_, of all places?"

"It has to be here. My sins root here, the answer too must be here as well."

"Tell me something…" The voice asked. It paused in thought, "Do you enjoy having friends?"

"Of course." Marche weaved around a large length of wall, "I treasure them."

"They why go through the trouble of losing them? If you find your 'answer' here, then you will indeed lose them, correct?"

"That's a…possibility. I'm looking for a way to make things right. For a way to make it so _everyone _was as happy as they were when they were here.. I took away paradise and I have to find a way to return it."

"What is 'Paradise'?"

Marche stopped in front of an old, dry fountain. He looked up at the broken statue of a woman in the center, holding a pot in her arms.

"Paradise is a place in which you have everything you've ever dreamed of."

"And the world in which you come from isn't 'paradise'?"

"No." Marche closed his eyes, "Not for my friends. They all had paradise here. Ritz had her hair and Shara, Mewt was a prince and had his Mother and Doned…my brother could _walk_! I…"

"You what?"

"I was greedy! I strove for my own ambitions, fought for what _I_ wanted and not what everyone else did! It was a mistake. A mistake to go against them. They're my friends, the only ones I have. I realize that it was all _me_! _My _error, _my _mistake."

"Your emotions are strong, Marche."

The voice trailed. The ground started to shake, clattering loose rubble. Marche spun to see if he could spot the cause and he saw it in second. Standing behind him was a judge, but not like any he'd seen. This judge was bigger, at least four feet taller than normal. Its eyes were a smoky blue and in the spaces between the armor a dark smoke blew. It held an axe that stretched up to well above its head and the blade was shone sharp. It took another thunderous step and swung, whistling the air.

Marche reacted with a yell, bounding backward. The blade hit the ground, splintering the stone into spider webs. Marche drew his blade in engagement fashion. It sparkled like it was water in the morning sun. Marche stood determined.

"I will atone for my sin.' He said. He pushed off both feet, taking speed towards the Judge. It reacted by letting go of its axe and throwing a right hook. The iron fist caught Marche in the side, cracking his armor and sending him painfully through some nearby rubble. It hurt all over, spikes of pain digging through his now-battered body. He pulled himself to his feet and raised his sword again. He shook his head clear and dashed forward.

The Judge met him halfway and with intertwined hands, hammered downwards. Marche saw the attack coming and slid to the side to avoid it. The Judge's fists hit the ground in a flurry of dust and stone. Marche took his chance, hopping up off the Judge's iron arm and plunging his sword into the smoke that was between the helmet and torso. It offered little resistance and the Judge went dead just as soon. All of it came crashing backwards to the ground in a loud ringing moment. Marche stood still for a minute then turned away from heap, sheathing his sword.

"Do you believe that you have truly 'sinned'?" The voice asked.

Marche frowned and started walking again. He hugged his right side, nearly limping. His sword hovered the ground.

"It is a sin to murder." Marche said, "And I have killed too many dreams."

* * *

Marche's lips had gone blue with cold by the time Mewt laid him in his bed. The snow that had covered him had long melted, soaking him completely.

"Blankets." Ritz said to Doned, "Where?"

"Downstairs." Doned said, "Bathroom closet."

Ritz ran off and Doned wheeled himself as close to the bed to take off Marche's wet clothes. They peeled from his icy skin. On the other side of the bed Mewt stood, holding the book that Marche had had in his hands, collapsed in the woods.

"Why, Marche?" He asked.

Ritz came back and waited until Doned had taken off his brother's wet clothes before she layered six heavy blankets on him. Doned hung the wet things on a nearby chair then turned to look at his two friends.

"Now what?" He asked.

Without a moment's hesitation, Ritz answered, "We go after him."

Mewt was shocked, "What! Go _after _him?"

Ritz's pointed, "We use _that _and go to get _him_!" Her finger went from Mewt to Marche.

Doned shook his head, "Marche must have went back for a reason, right? Maybe we should let him try and figure out whatever he's going through on his own."

"No!" Ritz yelled, "What if he's in danger? What if he's _hurt_?"

"Let's go." Mewt said and opened the book on top of Marche, "Doned, your mother won't be home until tomorrow, right?"

Doned nodded, "Business conference."

"Then let's _go_! My dad will think I'm here and so will your mom, Ritz."

"You seem like you want to go back more than any of us."

Mewt huffed, "Well, Marche went alone…I…I want to…" He smiled, "I want to grab him and ask him what's wrong!"

"Yeah!' Ritz said, psyched up, "And I wanna smack him for making us worry!"

Both of them smiled and turned to look at Doned, whose from quickly turned to smirk.

"Marche's my brother. I _have _to go."

"Then it's settled. Are we ready?"

The three of them looked at each other then nodded. Mewt settled down against the wall, sitting with his knees up. Ritz lay flat on the floor and Doned, with a deep breath, reclined best he could.

"lta oron Sondus kameela." Mewt said, hardly above a whisper. Ritz mouthed the words, as did Doned. The effect was almost instant.

All of their last thoughts were simple prayers that things would be okay.


	7. Hymn of Recollection

Six:

**Hymn of Recollection **

"I feel sadness coming from you." The voice said, "Are you feeling regret, coming back here with such a purpose?"

Marche stayed quiet and hopped over some rubble to the road again. His bruises were starting to scream, more and more every so many steps. It was starting to slow him down.

"Maybe it isn't regret at all, but rather sadness at the realization that there is no answer here."

"The answer is _here_." Marche muttered, "It _has _to be. I'll find it and return Ivalice to my friends and make things _better._"

"What about you? You'll be stuck here with them, lost away from _your _home."

"It's the price I'll pay." Wind blew through Marche's hair. He stopped walking and let it pass over him. He carefully rubbed at his bruise. It was hurting a lot more now, almost to the point where he would have to stop and bandage it.

"Who are you, Mr. Mystery Voice?" He asked.

" I am simply a observer."

Marche rolled his eyes, "Don't be weird. Just tell me who you are. Tell me your _name, _at least."

"Hmm…my name is Ajora."

"Ajora?" Marche wrinkled his nose, "That's a weird name."

"A name is a name to me." The voice said, flatly, "Its only purpose is identification."

Marche crooked a tiny grin, "Nice to meet you then, Mr. _Ajora_."

"Likewise, I suppose."

Marche took a deep breath and started walking again, swallowing hard at the aches from his side.

* * *

Ritz woke up to wind through her hair. She opened her eyes to see red fluttering across her face.. She sat up quickly and ran a glove through her hair. She pulled the length of it over her shoulder. It was a pleasant cherry-red. Her gloves caught her attention and drew her to look at the maroon chest plate and long, pink dress that chased her knees. Her boots rode high and were tipped with metal.

"You look good, Ritz."

She turned to see Mewt, sitting against a stone wall across from her. His hair and demeanor was unchanged, but he was dressed in a yellow shirt that had red embroidery up and down the arms. His pants were a smooth red that led to tall boots.

"So do you…?" She said, biting her lip.

Mewt laughed, "These were my clothes, unfortunately. "

"Maybe we should start moving a look for answers."

Doned stood before them, hands on his hips. He was in a blue coat, red trimming the collar. His boots were plain leather, his pants a soft-looking green. Ritz laughed.

"How's it feel?" She asked.

"It's nice." Doned said.

They were in what looked like ruins, some kind of old castle or stone village, rubble strewn over grass and dirt, with the occasional stone wall. Ritz and Mewt got to their feet. Doned pointed and was to talk when he was interrupted.

"How busy a day it is."

The voice came from everywhere all at once and was airy, _thin_…like it was whispering and not knowing it.

"What?" Ritz asked, jerking her head around.

The voice continued, "Well, hurry on. I think I may be of some help to you."

The wall behind Mewt crumbled, dusting the air. Mewt spun around and took a cautious step backwards. He looked through the dust as it thinned and saw a stone walk then went on for what looked like forever. He bit his lip and turned to look at Ritz and Doned, both of whom shrugged.

"Making it obvious." Doned said to the voice, "Let's go."

"I guess even god's on our side." Mewt said as he passed by Ritz. She rolled her eyes and started down the road.

* * *

Marche growled, looking up at his newest obstacle: an old broken wall stretching up roughly twenty feet. It was collapsed enough so he could scale it, but was tall enough to be a pain in his side…_literally. _He puffed in frustration, sheathed his sword and took hold of the first loose brick he saw. He was about to pull himself up when another crash came from behind him. He turned to see a another haunted Judge, appeared only a few feet away. Its smoke blew harder than before, trailing up from the cracks in curvy spirals. It raised its axe high and kept its iron, expressionless face pointed to Marche.

The weapon came down and Marche moved just in time to skim the attack. The blade collided with the wall and both shook violently, knocking out bricks and dust. Marche dashed around the judge and while he had the chance, withdrew his sword, letting go of his wound. The Judge started to turn and Marche leapt at the opening, driving his sword into the bend at its hip, twisting it . The Judge fell to a knee and Marche clambered up the sloping back to deliver the finishing blow to the base of its neck. The armor went limp and collapsed, smoke vanishing.

Breathing heavy, Marche sheathed his sword and held his side again. He turned to go back to climb the wall. A thrill of fear and ran down his spine when another crash came behind him, followed by two more, subsequent shockwaves with them. He turned around and saw three Judges, about ten feet away, encroaching.

"I won't let you stop me." He muttered, unsure if he could keep his word.

* * *

The road stopped at a brick wall, just _ending_. Ritz scratched her head in confusion and turned to look at Mewt and Doned behind her. She shrugged at them and then returned the gesture.

"Now what?" Doned asked, looking at the wall that stretched endlessly in both directions.

"I don't know." Ritz said.

"Good, you've made it." The voice returned, this time clearer, deeper. The three friends turned their heads to see a rift start to appear in the air from the wall Ritz was close to. She gasped and backed off, putting her hand on her sword.

"Now, now." The voice said, "I'm not here to fight."

A body stepped from the rift. It was an elderly man, dressed in an ankle long cloak, white in color with two black stripes going down from each shoulder. He had silver hair and wrinkled skin, both of which brought out his ice-grey eyes that were shining like diamonds.

"Ritz Malbeur." He said, smiling at her, "Welcome back."

* * *

Marche dove to avoid the axes. He rolled up to his feet wielded his sword, letting go of his now-burning bruise to take a fighting stance. He ran towards the group and nimbly weaved left and right, avoiding attacks of axe, fist and leg. He leapt up and bounded off the iron chest of the closest Judge, propelling himself and his sword into the throat Judge parallel. It went still and fell apart. Marche landed neatly on his feet but fell to his knees then a roll, putting distance between him and foe. His body screamed in bitter pain. He could feel his lower ribs rubbing.

"I can't stop." He hissed.

He rose to his feet, sword at the ready. The left of the two remaining judges took to a run, coming at Marche while his partner backed off. The Judge's speed became much more than expected. The Judge cocked his axe and swung it upward from the ground, skidding to a halt in the attack. Marche pulled juke around the weapon, avoiding the polished blade by a breath across the steel. He pulled forward and attacked the knee, again striking at the joint. The Judge, learnt from his colleague's defeat, shifted his weight and Marche's sword banged harmlessly off the armor. It shook up into his arm.

The Judge wasted no time and dropped his axe, flipping it mid-swing. Marche's reflexes lit up and by sheer hunger for survival did his body move in time. It wasn't far enough to avoid injury, however. The axe sheared through the shoulder of March's armor and as he spun away, cut deep into flesh. The axe impacted the ground. Marche, lost of breath, came to his feet and climbed the pole of the thing, readying his sword as he jumped for the neck.

He was in the air when the Judge swung out his fist, recovering from his attack sooner than Marche expected.. It pushed deep into Marche's stomach, sinking deep and cracking plate and mail. The pain roared and carried him as he flew and crashed hard into the wall. He fell forward onto his face, tasting blood. He saw Doned in his whirlwind thoughts. He saw Ritz and Shara.

Moving slowly, he got back to his feet.

* * *

"Who are you?" Mewt asked, body tense, at the ready.

The man looked from Ritz over to Mewt, "Mewt Randell. Hello."

"Who are you?" He asked again, voice hinting anger, "What's your name?"

"Ajora." The man said, "That's the second time I've been asked that today."

"Who asked you first?" Doned spoke up. Ajora turned to him, concerned.

"Doned Radiuju." He said, "Your brother is here. He's fighting his demons."

"What do you mean?" Doned asked, tightening his expression.

"Take a look." Ajora turned to the wall with a wave of his hand. A split appeared in the bricks and the wall rippled, like water, and vanished. On the other side, back to them, was Marche. He was his blue armor, his sword familiar to all. Standing before him was a tremendous Judge, taller than any the three had seen before. Behind it stood another, standing stoic as the former did all the work.

"Marche!" Doned ran to his brother. He stumbled and fell flat into an invisible wall. It knocked the wind out of him and put him to the ground.

"What the…" Ritz lay a hand on the surface of the wall. Mewt helped Doned to his feet.

Ajora spoke, "Your brother came here with the intent of finding something. He is determined to do it alone."

"What do you mean?" Ritz asked.

Ajora turned from Marche to look at Ritz. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"This world, dear one, this _Ivalice_, is a world built with the wills of its users. You came here with the intent of finding Marche and this is what the world gave you. Even your appearance is what you wished, nay, what you _remember_."

"Whatever." Doned coughed, "How can we help _Marche_?"

"All he wants is to atone. He's put burden on his shoulder and they weigh him and him alone. Unless he deems it, you can't get to him."

Doned slammed a fist into the invisible wall, yelling.

"Damn you, Marche!" He screamed, "We just want to _help!_"

The Judge before Marche wrenched the axe from the ground and came forth. He swung it hard, missing Marche as he moved. The axe came down, but the Judge stopped it inches before impact. He twisted it in his hands and slashed sideways. Marche dropped to his knees to avoid it and came up with a smooth, easy swing, catching the elbow joint of the Judge and taking the arm off.

"Why are they attacking him?" Mewt asked.

"Marche is looking for a answer." Ajora said, "The world must have given him one."

"Answer? To what?"

Ajora frowned, "He is confident that he destroyed your paradise. He bears the blame for it."

Ritz looked at Mewt, who had on the same look of awful understanding that she did. Doned's hands shook.

"Stupid Marche." He spat.

* * *

The armless Judge was moving faster than ever now, swinging his axe with speed that Marche could just barely keep up with. It zipped through the air again and again, each time getting closer to its target. Marche moved as fast he could. He leapt at the wall and pushed off, readying his sword and aiming for the other arm. The axe came up from the ground while he was in the air, and Marche reacted, swinging his sword and clashing with the axe. It continued up, though away from Marche. The blow took his sword from his hand and spun it to stick neatly at the base of the wall. Marche hit the ground and rolled twice. He didn't recover gracefully and had to pause to collect himself. He got to his feet.

He turned and ran to get his weapon. The Judge came at him and Marche dove. He was too slow and the blade drug down from his shoulder to tailbone. He cried out and kept moving. He got to the wall and pulled free the weapon. He turned in time to duck the axe, which stuck into the brick. The Judge let go the thing threw a fist, catching Marche on the left cheek, throwing him to the ground and shattering his jaw.

Doned sobbed and hit the wall over and over again.

"If he dies here…" Ajora said, "He will die everywhere."

"Why?" Ritz asked, her voice wobbled.

Ajora closed his eyes, "The Gran Grimoire ties itself to the users soul and mind. Die here, and it will crush both. You don't live through that."

"What's the Gran Grimoire?" Ritz asked.

"You don't know?" Ajora asked, puzzled.

Ritz shook her head.

"It's the book." Mewt said, "It has to be."

Ajora nodded, He sighed, long and sad. "The Gran Grimoire is a gateway that was made by the old inhabitants of real Ivalice…your _ St. __Ivalice_. Back when I was a living, breathing person, many copies of these books were made to try and hold that time forever by creating an Ivalice that could shift to its user's whim."

"Nothing but a feeble attempt to be remembered." Ritz said.

Ajora shrugged, "I suppose that's what everything humans do is."

Marche fell to the ground, collapsed from an awful punch. The Judge loomed over him. The axe floated as it stuck in the wall. Marche's sword laid next to him. Doned screamed again, yelling in aguish as he kept pounding the wall. Tears ran his cheeks, his skin red with anger.

"We have to help him!" Ritz said, punching the air.

"Marche!" She yelled his name as loud as she could, "Marche! We came to help you! _Marche_!"

* * *

Marche began to apologize. Through the pain, the torment of it all, he began to say he was sorry. He started with his mother and remembered the light of the sign. He apologized to his father, to his distant family. He said sorry to Ritz and Mewt and to their families. He tried to move his arms, but they sang misery. His face was alight with agony. His legs refused to work. The Judge stood over him, tall and cast shadow. Marche apologized to all of his Ivalice, both here and the saint. He felt tears. He hurt so much. He shut his eyes.

He heard a voice. It was soft and small, but he heard it.

It was his brother. It was Doned. In his mind he saw a flash of Ritz and her white hair, smiling beautifully at him. He saw Mewt with his hands in his pockets, smiling at him out of the corner of his mouth.

He saw his brother in his wheelchair, shaking his head playfully. He couldn't help but laugh as he realized then that perhaps, in the end, it was regret. He heard his brother's voice again. It was crying, deep and loud. Marche mustered his strength. He turned his head, running his face through the dirt. He tasted blood.

There he saw, through the wall, his brother. He was crying, pounding on whatever it was keeping them apart. Marche wanted to cry for him, to do anything to make it stop. He couldn't move, couldn't fight. All he could do was shut his eyes. He heard the Judge make his move.

Before he passed, in the seconds before the darkness took to sleep, he felt warmth over his hand and the sounds of steel unsheathed.

* * *

The wall disappeared as Marche shut his eyes. Doned's swings went right through. Ritz was the first to move, drawing her sword as second nature. The Judge had taken its axe again and raised it high, playing executioner. Ritz moved like a Viera, moved like she did in all her years with Shara. Climbing trees, mountains. Moving through air like nothing could stop her. She climbed the Judge like it was a mossy cliff face and spun around its head, furiously driving her blade through its neck like it was an animal to be put down. It paused, shook and collapsed. Ritz was off the armor before it hit the ground, moving to kill the last of them. A fireball seared the air over her. It trailed and connected with the remaining Judge, knocking it flat onto its back. Taking the chance, Ritz clambered over it and killed it before it could even start to recover.

As she came back to the group, she sheathed her sword. She looked to Mewt.

"Babus taught me well, huh?" He said. She half-smiled and frowned as she saw the state of Marche. He was a bloody mess. Doned was over him, cradling his brother in his arms and crying his name. Blood smeared his clothes. Marche was limp. She gave Mewt an _uh oh _glance then walked quickly to them.

"Marche! Wake up and talk to me! Wake up and tell me what's wrong!" Doned sobbed.

"How bad is it?" Ritz asked, not sure who to expect an answer from.

Ajora responded, "He has little time."

"No…" Mewt said, voice shaken, "If he dies here, he's gone everywhere, right?"

Ajora nodded, "That's the sad truth."

"Doned."

Everyone looked down at Marche. He spoke two words. They came out soft, tired.

"I'm sorry."

Doned broke, screaming his wails of sorrow.

"There has to be something we can do…" Mewt said. He turned to Ajora, "Can you heal him?"

"No."

Ritz stomped her foot, "Who _are _you, old man? You show up and act like we're all old friends of yours and prattle on with cryptic speeches about the _old _Ivalice…who are you?"

Ajora sighed and turned to look out across the debris.

"I am the arbiter here. Ajora of Gran Grimoire Virgo."

"Virgo? The zodiac sign?" Mewt said.

"Ten thousand years ago, your Ivalice was much like _this _Ivalice: swords, magic, gods. But there was war, a great many of them. During one of the last and longest, the patriarchs of the world decided that Ivalice, as they knew it, wouldn't exist much longer. So they used ancient relics of magic to create twelve books, twelve Gran Grimoire, to encase the nature of Ivalice in them. Whoever read the words on the books would be drawn inside, to a world like Ivalice, but shaped to the user…"

Ajora waved his hand out, showcasing the landscape.

"When you came here before, each of you had a dream while reading those words. The book delivered."

"You still haven't said who you are." Ritz said.

"Back in Old Ivalice…" Ajora smiled a little, but it fell quickly "I was a noble who took the name of a defunct savior, that's all. My spirit was encased inside this Grimoire to keep watch." He shook his head, "But enough is enough. No more talking of the past. I might have a way to help Marche."

Ritz clenched her fists, "How?"

"I can join you with the world temporarily. You'd be able to speak directly to Marche's will—his _spirit_. If you can get him to accept whatever he's fighting, you can all return to your world, healthy as ever."

"I get it." Doned said, whimpering, "Once he accepts that he didn't hurt us, then we can take him home-"

Ajora nodded, "But…"

"But what?" Mewt asked.

Ajora sighed, turning, "Doing that will cause the extinction of both this Grimoire and…me. I will perish during the process."

"You'd be willing to sacrifice that much for Marche?" Mewt asked.

"I've been here for ten millennium. Trapped in a world that has always been shaped by others." He smiled, "It will feel good finally make a decision of my own accord."

"So all we have to do is knock some sense into Marche?" Ritz asked.

"Yes."

Mewt punched his palm, "Then let's go!".

"Once I meld you and the world, you will only have until his body _here _dies. Going by his condition he doesn't have long left. Are you still will-"

"Don't ask us if we have doubts." Doned said, "It's Marche, our friend…my _brother_! If we don't succeed, then we might as well die."

"I agree." said Ritz.

"Me too." Said Mewt.

"Good." Ajora said and lifted his hands, "God speed, then."

The sky started to glow, brighter and brighter. Mewt turned to look at Ajora and the last he saw before the light took them was the old man smiling.


	8. Symphony of Empathy

Seven:

**Symphony of Empathy**

Ritz blinked to consciousness on her feet, standing flat as a windstorm tore around her. Her hair floated up behind her, her skin pelted with stone and sand.. She put her arms up to protect her face as she scanned around her, looking for life.

"Mewt! Doned!" She hesitated for answer, then called again when she got none.

"Where is everyone?"

"Ritz."

She spun, coming face-to-face with Marche. His eyes half-closed and his shoulders sulking. He was in his blue coat and white scarf; clothes from St. Ivalice.

"Marche!" She said loudly, over the winds, and reached out a bare hand to put on his shoulder. The instant it landed, the winds vanished and a spooky silence took its place.

"I'm sorry, Ritz." Marche said, and vanished.

"Ritz!"

Ritz looked at her still-outstretched hand and curled it into a fist. She shook her head and turned to look at Mewt and Doned running towards her, both garbed in clothes from the real world.

"Are you ok?" Mewt asked and then looked her up and down, "You've changed."

Ritz looked down to see she was in her white coat and green pants, both of which from the real world.

"I don't get it." She said.

Doned spoke, "It's how Marche sees us…like in our Ivalice, we all looked how we saw ourselves…you in your armor and Mewt in his royal clothes. The same principal goes for here too, just with Marche."

"Speaking of Marche…" Mewt cut in, "We have to find him."

Ritz nodded. She turned on her heel and was shocked to see that the landscape changed in the two seconds it took her to do so. It went from the windy wasteland to a lush, green meadow peppered with colorful flowers and oak trees. Standing next to the one of the larger trees was Marche with his back to his friends, head lowered.

"Marche!" Doned yelled and took a step towards him. As his foot hit the ground, he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Doned." He frowned and sighed, then turned to Ritz and moved his hand from to hers, "I'm sorry, Ritz."

Mewt watched him apologize to both Ritz and Doned and then turn to him. Mewt looked into Marche's eyes, dark and cloudy. A far cry from what he knew. He kept the gaze constant as Marche reached up to put his hand onto Mewt's shoulder. Mewt snorted and clenched a fist. He brought it across Marche's jaw, sending him reeling to the side.

"Don't you _dare _say you're sorry, Marche! You have _nothing _to apologize for."

There was a clap of thunder and rain started in downpour.

"I ruined your paradise." Marche said softly, getting back to his feet. A grey outline of a bruise had started to form on his cheek.

"You didn't ruin anything." Doned said, "We're all happy in the real world! Happy with us, happy with _you!_"

"Liar." Marche hung his head and the ground beneath started to change, to morph like soft clay. Buildings and forests grew out of the grass and within minutes, they were standing on a rooftop in Sprohm.

"I saw what my paradise is, what my _peace _is and it's the real world. But your paradise is _here_, where you have everything you need."

"We don't have you." Doned said, "We don't have _you _and that hurts."

"What good am I? I'm nothing but a destroyer-"

"No." Mewt said, "Listen to me, Marche! You brought us back to the real world, _yes_, but you also brought us paradise! Each of us learned something in Ivalice that we brought back with us…"

Ritz realized what Mewt was saying and opened her mouth in surprise. She looked over at Doned who was nodding along.

"I learned to live with loss. You forced me to learn that life without a mother is livable and that I should not sit back and watch the world pass me by-"

Ritz cut it, "I learned to accept _me_! I learned to love my family and not to take them for granted!"

"And Marche, you showed me that you loved me! That you _cared_, whether or not I can walk! Don't you _understand?_" He took a step forward and shoved Marche in the chest, "You gave us these things!"

Marche was quiet.

"Guilt isn't what you should be feeling!" Ritz yelled, "You should feel _pride_! _Joy!_"

The winds around them whipped up again and the town of Sprohm blew away like ash, leaving the four back in the wasteland in which they started. Marche looked up at his friends, at Ritz and Mewt, both of which gave him the best smile they could with gales coming at them. When he turned to look at Doned, he approached. His brother wrapped his arms around him and he could hear him crying.

"Wake up, Marche…I can't live without you…"

The ground beneath all of them vanished and they fell, tumbling into blackness.

* * *

From the tallest of Kudik Peaks, Marche could see all of Ivalice, spread like a patchwork quilt of farms, forests and cities. The winds picked up, carrying the land on it: fresh-baked Sprohm bread, the leafy smell of the Giza plains and even the cold of the Jagds. Marche closed his eyes and breathed it in, leaning into the gust. He felt the world embrace him with the comfort of faith and the warmth of a mother's touch. He turned around at the sound of a chocobo approaching. He smiled at the Judge riding on it.

His friend's voices started resonating through his head.

"_I don't hate you, Marche. You're my brother, I can't hate you."_

"_Marche, I don't hate you. You did what you had to do."_

"_You're lucky I was here to save you."_

"_You should feel pride! Joy!"_

"_Wake up Marche…"_

"_I can't live without you."_

The Judge drew it's sword and attacked. Marche smiled broadly and caught the steel of the blade. It ran across his hand without harm. He pulled it from the Judge's grip, tossing it behind him. It flew off the cliff and vanished in a flash of light. The Judge, angry, clawed at its helmet, removing it quickly.

As expected, Ritz was beneath it and she scowled as she said her line:

"You had no right to take this away from me."

"I didn't take it away." Marche said, "I gave it to you."

There was silence.

Ritz smiled and turned her steed around. She rode off into growing light. The world started to vanish. Marche turned to the cliff. He watched as their Ivalice started to fade. The light took the land, a sunrise of color. Soon, no detail could be found in the sea of it.

"It's beautiful." Ajora said next to him, his body fading.

"Yeah, it is." Marche said. He took a deep breath, "Thank you."

"Don't thank _me_." Ajora said, "I was simply the flint that started the fire."

"Just the same." March clapped at the old man's shoulder. He smiled widely.

"Goodbye, Ivalice." Marche said. The light rose and took them both.


	9. Encore

Epilogue:

**Encore**

Marche was the first awake and had trouble getting out of the stack of blankets on top of him. Once freed he staggered his way to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He was home. He smiled and ran his hand through his hair. He felt better, lighter. Like he had just lost a tremendous weight. He rubbed his cheeks and his side. He flexed his fingers and smiled at himself in the mirror.

Back in the bedroom, his friends were sleeping on the floor and Doned in his wheelchair. He put pillows beneath their heads and used some of the blankets to cover them. As he did, he a book tumbled from the bed to the floor. He picked it up. It was heavier. Much heavier. Upon further investigation, Marche saw that the inside, what once was paper, was now completely stone. He shook his head at it and put it back on the bed. He looked at Ritz and Mewt again and turned around to see Doned awake and looking at him from his chair.

"Hey." Marche said.

Doned didn't say anything. Marche could see tears in his eyes. In a single motion, Doned wheeled forward to knock knees with his brother. He leaned forward to hug him. Marche opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but he heard a laugh in Doned's tears and smiled.

"Thank you, Doned." Marche said, "You two, Ritz, Mewt."

He dropped to his knees and hugged his brother tightly.

"Thank you." He whispered.

They sat like that until the sun outside started to rise. The light filled the room. It was warm, comforting. Ritz and Mewt woke soon after and they all sat in the silence of the morning light. Smiling, happy and ready to live their lives.


	10. Author's Note

**Author's End note:**

_I suppose the first thing I should say here is thanks for reading my story. It took a lot of thought and tap-tap at my trusty keyboard, but I finished it. I know this is coming a bit late, considering the time between finishing the story and now, but better late then never, eh? _

_All in all, the main reason for writing this note was really just to give some closure and supplement to the readers—my stories are rather serious, and here I get to cut loose and have a little fun. _

_This story came about after a long discussion with a friend, concerning whether or not Marche was really the –hero- of FFTA. In a sense, he was, but that was only in his perspective. To everyone else in Ivalice, he was the bad guy, the monster trying to destroy their dreams. The first drafts of this tale were much shorter, six pages, max and mostly dealt with Marche and not his friends. It was only after re-reading it a million times I came to the conclusion that his friends would NEED to play part here in order for him to find some kind of peace (which he does—oooh, spoiler!). _

_So with that new mentality, I spent the time whipping up what you have here. I hope you enjoyed it, 'cause I had some fun writing it. _

_Before I go, I thought it might be fun to see what kind of music mainly influenced this fic. You see, I listen to music almost religiously, caring so deeply for every note of every genre I enjoy, it's crazy. Most of the music is classical; chapters one and two came from Pachelbel's 'Canon in D major' and Chapter three is mostly from Final Fantasy X "Someday the dream will end." Other songs for this story included Stroke 9's 'little black back pack', some Mighty Mighty Bosstones and Noriyuki Iwadare's wonderful Lunar: The Silver Star Story soundtrack. _

_Also, the chapter where Ritz, Mewt and Doned go to look for Marche is directly influenced by the song "Brothers" from the great anime Full Metal Alchemist. _

_And for some oddness, all judge fights came with "What's this?" from the Nightmare before Christmas. _

_Ok, that's all I have. Again, thanks for reading and have a goodnight! Or morning! Or midday! Or afternoon! _

_It should also be noted that it's so hot where I am right now, I had to take off my pants._

_Ah-ha-ha…what else is new…?_

_Thanks for the support- _

_Brian M. Conley _


	11. Author's Note 2012

**Author's Note **

**The 2012 Version**

Can you honestly believe that it's been seven years since I first posted this story? Time flies, to be sure. Unfortunately, I've all but fallen out of writing fanfiction and moved on to other, larger writing projects. But this story always stuck in my craw. I've always liked it. I liked the idea, I liked the delivery and I loved how it all turned out. This and Verite au Vie were my big 'magnum opus'' here on , stories I always thought of when I thought of their respective games.

I recently found some down time and in a kick of both nostalgia and drive, decided to look at some of my older works. A lot of it is awful, yes, but I found this again and enjoyed re-reading it. Thing was, there was a LOT of terrible things in it. Bad structure, awful grammar, pacing, spelling—on and on. Not to mention that my writing style has found itself in a place much different than this. So, re-reading this now lead to a lot of cringing and shaking of the head. The fact that I was so sold on the 'italics for what characters are thinking' thing makes me sick. Plus, there was a lot of text that didn't need to be there. Descriptions of things that are just as easily shown, confusing bits of dialogue and really just a lot deadwood that could be (and has been) trimmed.

Editing this to what I like now that I'm seven years older was a lot of fun, actually! It made me go pick up my ancient copy of the game to double-check things and wouldn't you know it, I had to play an hour (or ten). My combined hours in that game are well over 250. Goddamn.

Anyway.

While I didn't change the main focus of the story, a lot of events have been changed, cut down or plain removed. Marche's final fight with the Judges, for instance, is different, as is Ritz and company's return to the world. Still, even after all that, you can still see traces of my younger self through it. Isn't it funny how much one can change in seven years? Reading the original version of this made me realize how immature I was back then, how much I had to learn about writing. Tacking on an author's note that points out what music I listened to when writing, for instance, is a great example of such immaturity. It's like, who cares. It's just was what playing. Imagine if Victor Hugo published an author's note that said 'Oh, I was listening to Wagner while I wrote Fantine's death'.

Not that I'm anywhere near Mr. Hugo. Shame on me, really, for making that comparison.

Okay, okay, I'm rambling again. It's what I do. I hardly ever stay on track. Give me enough time and I'd build you a train station when you asked for a hamburger.

Again, thank you for reading. Thank you for enjoying. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Email me at ZorgonXtreme2

Or don't. Whatever.

Finally, it's balls cold where I am.

My pants have stayed on my legs.

Ah-ha-ha!


End file.
